


Nocturne

by smgmcrznana, Verdin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Agi's fault, Angst, Fetish, M/M, S&M, Wait for chapter 2 for smut, as usual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-03-15 03:23:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13604505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smgmcrznana/pseuds/smgmcrznana, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verdin/pseuds/Verdin
Summary: Cape Caem is beautiful at this time of the year, especially if you can spend some time at the sea with your best buddies. If you weren't getting married. And your father didn't recently die. And nobody is willing to talk with you about it.Noctis tries to cope in his own way, and that includes a man that was so very close to his dad that he might just understand...





	1. Chapter 1

The evening air was pleasant this close to the sea. Noct sat on the brittle bench, his back against the lighthouse, and watched the stars come up over the waves. Alone, for once, the boys being busy doing boy things, and he was happy for it. They rarely gave him time to rest, to _think_ , keeping the sadness and the slowly rising panic at bay. He cracked open another can of beer. It felt like an _adult_ thing to do, even if it still was too bitter for his taste.

He didn't look as steps approached him. The heels of the boots on the gravel gave him away. "Wanna sit, Marshal?"

At his words he sat down, feeling sand sink under his boots and looked towards where Noct was looking at the dark ocean and sky, uninspired and abject. Beaches never were his thing. "I hope I am not disturbing you... _Your Majesty_. " _Nope, still not used to it._ Cor sighed quietly. He didn't know why he had come here, other than to see who was at the bench.

The young king handed him a can. “Noct is okay. I'm not on the throne. Don't even have a throne anymore.“ He stretched his legs. “Stay with me for a while, like you did with dad?“

Cor took the can, not bothering to question why there already were empty ones. "Sure thing." In truth he'd much rather leave again, but it would all be the same thing now. He had nowhere to be.

The young man smiled a tired smile and leaned his head against the marshal's shoulder. Sat in silence for a while.

“They won't let me talk about him, you know?“

The weight against his side was heavier than he had imagined. A spark of warmth persisted between them despite the cold ocean breeze.

The smell of salt and briskness had not lifted his spirits, nor had the sip of beer. "They mean you no harm, they just worry about you." His eyes on the can between his hips as he spoke. "We all do." An afterthought, a half-truth, looking to the ocean again. _Had he never taken the time to befriend Noctis because he feared...?_ He lifted the can and downed another sip.

“I know they do, but...“ Noct tore the ring from the can. “I've said so many hurtful things to him because I... I never thought he... would just _stop_ being there, you know? And they... Gladio doesn't talk about his feelings, or somehow is okay with his dad dying in the line of duty, and you... you _loved_ him, didn't you? I know he loved you.“ His knuckles gently ran along Cor's arm.

He stared at Noct's hand, following the motions, a moment to think.

"He knew you didn't mean it, Noctis. Tried his hardest for you two to be father and son foremost, and not prince and king. I'd say he succeeded letting you do things your way, more so than his father did for him, and I know you have made your father proud."

He bit his lip.  _ Yes, I did love him _ .

"In the end, both your lives are limited to the throne, yet he tried to free you as much as possible, and beyond it. He is not disappointed or hurt by you acting like child towards a parent." A reassuring smile lingered before an aluminium can hid it. "You want to talk about him?" Cor was uneasy. Awkwardness stiffened his body, but he could at least try to be there for his lover's son.

“I... don't know. Maybe. Maybe I just want to get drunk with somebody close to his heart and feel less... don't know.“ The young man beside him shrugged. “Maybe I just want to be sad, with nobody trying to cheer me up. But not be alone with it either.“

His black hair was soft against Cor's jacket. The day's journey and the wind up here had managed to get rid of all the spray he used so liberally.

Cor lowered his head towards him, listening intently, then nodded. "Cheering up never was one of my strong points, but I can lend an ear and shoulder, and I can drink."

"Thank you." A quick, shy kiss on his cheek before the young king's head returned to its place. "Then maybe you should drink. Gotta catch up with me."

"Shouldn't be too hard, lightweight." He couldn't remember the last time he had blushed, awkward still, nevertheless unwary of Noctis' mood, welcoming it. A weird kind of nostalgia set in Cor as he pondered the situation.

Here he sat, under the stars and moon, with a sad drunk who had something to get off his chest, something that also was close to his heart.

"I'm hours ahead of you, Leonis, and a hard guy like you needs something  _ proper _ . Something like that, right? But I found... wait..." He bowed forward, searched something in the shadows under the bench. Found it. "This. Tastes like paint thinner smells, but I heard that's a good thing when you get accustomed to the stuff."

The boy had made only a little dent into the whisky that was in the bottle, still dusty from time spent hidden somewhere around here.

No boring supervising remarks about why or how he had it, about the empty beer cans, or interjections about his thoughts of him. He took the bottle off his hand and tried to study the label in the darkness of night, see if it was anything he recognized. Some printed words, and no obvious skulls. Also, the prince survived it, so it would not kill  _ him _ .

"I'll take it." Surprise in his voice. The night had lead him here to be a friend for the king in need, he wasn't going to spoil the mood by letting Noctis think he was wrong about anything.

"I don't wanna go, Cor." A big gulp of beer to wash away the wretched tone of his voice. "And I'm so sorry for Luna and I'm sorry for Dad and I'm sorry for you that I'm such a fuckup and..." It was more anger than sadness that let his voice shake. "But I _will_ go. Duty and all that shit. It doesn't matter what I _want_ , now does it?"

Now and then, so very far behind them, fleeting car lights illuminated the sparse trees that grew up here, but they felt like miles away in this sleeping place. It was getting colder and darker, Cor looking straight ahead, trying to separate miles and miles of dark water from infinite sky. He couldn't decide if he found it eerie, never one to ponder the meaning of the great void or his part in it too deeply, but then again, prophecy didn't rest on his shoulders. He felt sorry for Noct, the same regret as for Regis.

"What do you want, Noct?"  _ Let the boy pour out his confusion, cry his injustice _ .

A long, heavy silence. Noct's nails clicked on the metal of the can.

“You,“ he finally whispered, his head against the marshal's shoulder again. “Just once, so I know if it feels like I always imagined it.“

Cor’s face was blank, still, except for nervous blinking of the eyes and visible breath from his mouth as he tried to process his words, licking his lips.  _ Had he heard correctly? _

"You don't mean.." _This kid was joking, right?_ He turned to look at Noctis, letting him slide from his shoulder onto the backrest. He studied his indifferent expression as much as he could in the dark, waiting for him to break mask and silence with a loud laugh. It didn't come. _Fuck_. He couldn't find it within him to berate him or ignore him, offer apologies for the boy and himself, or figure out how to let him down.

He sat back and looked to ocean again. Grimaced. Noctis was never _just_ Noctis to him. He recalled memories of joy in Regis' voice and eyes whenever he told him stories of his son, so sickeningly sweet. _I have laid with your father, Noct, how the hell do you even want me to respond to this?_ He rubbed his face, then took a swig to wash away the dryness in his mouth. Still no signs from Noctis that this was a farce. Cor hunched forward with an audible sigh, rested his forearms on his thighs and stared at the dark sand between his boots.

"Noctis.. I'm going to be frank with you. I don't think continuing this conversation is a good idea. I don't think you're in the right mind for it. I'll stay, we'll drink, but I cannot give you that, not even entertain the thought." He sat straight up again, another hard swig.  _ Astrals _ .

The young king slumped forward.

“'kay. Sure. It's just... I needed to ask. Just once. Needed to do that for a long time, and now I did, and now I know.“ There had been no hope in his voice before, but now he sounded like the last shard of a dream inside him had shattered.

The devastation in Noct's tone cut straight to his heart, and Cor regretted every word he said. Those words did nothing to alleviate the feelings of sorrow and guilt he had for the boy now, even if they had been said on the spot and might be truthful.

"Noctis.. this is not.. don't feel like this, okay? It's alright. You've done nothing wrong, it's just.. " He was never good with words, or sudden confessions, or the tears he thought he saw in the boy's eyes as he spoke to him. He put his hand on Noctis' thigh and squeezed hard a few times, trying to make it easy for him to bounce back from it all.

“Hey, it's cool. Really. Just.. drunk things you say to your childhood crush before you get married and..“ He snatched the bottle from Cor's hands and took a swig. Groaned. “I'll just drink until I pass out and forget everything, like a reasonable adult. Cheers.“

Cor took the bottle from him again and put the cap on it. "Then _I'll_ be the reasonable adult and tell you you've had enough already." He swallowed hard and put the bottle on the ground, briefly considered the irony of _him_ being the one to do that.

"There's no reason to pretend this didn't happen, Noct. I'll not think different of you or change my behavior around you. You don't have to be ashamed about it or avoid me either, okay? Moments like these happen." His hand remained on his thigh, his voice an unusual tone as he tried not to sound stern. "Noctis... you're not the first to blurt out stuff like this to me, you're not the first I couldn't return affection or grant a drunken wish to either, and you deserve more than that, don't you think?" Cor tried to smile, be soft and soothing for the withdrawing king.

“It isn't about affection, Leonis. If Dad taught me anything, then it's a strong ruler may not love anything but the country. The rest just weakens him.“ A shift in his posture, in his tone, and for the first time Cor could imagine the boy wearing the heavy crown. “He may still have desires, but that is all, and right now I very much desire to be very drunk, for I will not order my Marshal to kiss me, even if I... can I just have the fucking bottle?“

Cor looked at him for some time, saw the grimace under his hair and his determination to hide it, then picked up the bottle, opened it and held it out for Noct to take. "If my Majesty wishes it.." He couldn't help but stare at Noctis now, now that he _demanded_ his attention.

No  _ thank you _ . Just a little nod before the young  _ man  _ put the bottle to his lips and drank, face as stern and serious as a particularly honorable warrior when meeting their end, and he managed to swallow it down without a twitch. "Now you, Leonis. Show me how it's done."

Cor shook his head and smiled at the thought of Noct viewing drinking as qualification and competition. Nevertheless he did him the favor, tilting his head back to let the drink flow in his mouth. Not overdoing it, He did not want to inspire him to  _ unheroic  _ deeds.

The warmth that spread in his body felt pleasant, even against the cold wind that blew, and made it easier for him to relax around the sullen king next to him.

"We have all night, Noct. No need to hurry." He gave the bottle back, feeling his fingers get caught under the boy's strong grip.

"That we do." Another swig, a smaller one this time, and he looked up to the sickly yellow moon as he let the liquid run down his throat, trying to savor the burn. "Say it again, my Marshal," voice husky, lips curling into a grim smile.

Countless times Cor and Regis had shared a bottle or two, through good and bad, simple moments of talking, unloading and affection that had become some of his favorite memories over the years. He studied Noct, but thought of his father. They were different in so many ways, yet clear traits passed from father to son persisted. He wondered if they should talk about Regis, Noctis' reason for seeking solitude at the bench, perhaps dedicate this night to him -  but decided against it in the end. "Next time I'll bring a bottle I think you'll appreciate, Your Majesty." He picked up his beer can and clinked it against the bottle.

“Something sweet and bubbly?“ A short laugh. “Stuff like this is part of the reason you are what you are, Leonis, isn't it? One needs to harden up to appreciate it, and I think this is just what I need to do.“

"Something fit for a king." _Was that nostalgia in his voice?_ There was a tiny hint of a smile on Cor's face as his hand reached for the bottle, trying to judge how much was left. "And perhaps we'll find some glasses, rather than drink straight from the bottle like some beach bums." He gave it back and slapped Noct's thigh.Sighed. "You have the hardest duty of us all, Noct, that should already tell you the strength you possess, what you're capable of." He truly felt sorry for the boy.

“I don't. It's a sacrifice I was born to make. It's those I leave behind, those that spend their life to make mine easier to bear, that have the hardest duty.“ He turned his head to look at the marshal. “Feeling like a bum ain't so bad once in a while.“ A little twitch in the corner of his mouth that didn't hide his melancholy.

They said nothing for some time. Memories of Regis' constant worries about his son filled Cor's head, of him being born, the burden he would bear, him buckling under the pressure of it. More than once he had to calm Regis down from anger and despair and now, he was listening to this very son, so fully aware of the weight he carried, of the trials that lay ahead, worrying instead of making others worry, accepting his fate like a  _ true king _ . Cor clenched his fist, tried think of something else. It got to his heart in places  _ nothing  _ should touch.

"Cheers to that, Your Majesty." Solemnly said, and he downed the last of his beer to wash away the bad taste in his mouth.

Noct drank and handed him back the bottle. He had become more reasonable in the swigs he took, or had noticed how much faster liquor got into his head.

“Don't tell them I... I know, okay? How the whole shit will go down. Can't have them crying silently while I try to fish.“

Cor chuckled, a release from somewhere deep that he couldn't and didn't want to stop. His hand found Noct's shoulder and squeezed. "I won't, Noct." The muscle through his clothes was firmer and bigger than he had expected, he smiled and let go, turned his gaze upwards and searched the sky for nothing in particular, filling his mouth with slow, small sips.

“Say, wanna go fishing? Climb down to the beach and see what's hungry in the night?“

The idea seemed to improve the young king's mood immensely.

"Drunk night fishing? Now we really are some beach bums." The marshal smiled, immediately acting at the prospect of having something to do that he felt more comfortable with, and that would hopefully ease their minds. He gathered the beer cans in a plastic bag, few left unopened, cleaning up the king's mess. He felt much lighter as he stood up, kicked his feet against the sand and stretched his legs, bag in one hand, whisky bottle in the other.

"Lead the way, Your Majesty."

“ _Your_ _Majesty_...“ Noct repeated. “We both will have to get used to that, don't we? C'mon, let's get going.“

 


	2. Chapter 2

They fell asleep down at the sea before dawn, huddled together between empty beer cans, fishing rods and folding chairs, both of them too drunk and tired to make the way up to their beds. Cor wasn’t sure if it was him that put his arm around the young king to protect him from the cold or if it was Noct that huddled up to him, but the other body was warm and somehow homely, and he slid into dreams before he could doubt this position.

  
He knew this place so very well. Knew the shadows, the dark marble, the high columns, the golden balustrade around the throne. Cor Leonis was _home_ , even if this was a home he only tolerated because of a sense of duty and one man.

  
His knees hurt as he was kneeling at the end of the long stairs. He looked up, his gaze traveling upon the countless steps, expecting to find the man at the end of it. There was _someone_ up there, dark and gloomy, the royal garments fitting and unmistakable, but something seemed off about the man on the throne. Cor tried to stand up but felt a _force_ , a voice stop him.

He had been here so often, both in the waking world and in his dreams, and both had been nightmares more often than not. This time, the usual feeling of dread was there, but it was more a distant memory, something that lived in his muscles and the back of his brain.

“My marshal.“ Noctis strode down the stairs in a slow, regal manner his father never fully managed, until he came to a halt in front of his kneeling servant. Laid a soft hand on the short hair.

The heels of Noct's shoes _clicked_ on each step and echoed in the hall, striking spikes of fear in Cor that accumulated in a tremor creeping up his spine when he finally felt the touch. He closed his eyes, tried to keep composure and speak.

"My.." His voice faltered.  
  
“ My...?“ Soft mockery in Noct's voice, and his hand gliding down Cor's temple, his cheek, resting on the heavy beating arteries on the sides of his throat. Pushing down gently. “I know it is hard, Leonis. It hurts in the steel that pulses in your chest.“  
  
As Noctis stood over him suddenly so tall and vivid, Cor recognized Regis' suit on him, the gold details that he loved, the leather of the boots that shone their deep, dark matter. He averted his gaze from Noct's and focused on them pointing towards him menacingly, as he readied himself to strain against the hand that tried to force the word out.  
  
“Your hands, my Marshal. Put them behind your back."

Cor felt sweet dizziness rising in his head. Shiny boots of leather. Sometimes he had longed to kiss them, to kiss the feet of his one and only king, but sweet Regis never allowed him, found the idea alone a little strange. Slow and weightlessly he moved his arms back, feeling the sleeves of his jacket slide up as he rubbed his wrists against each other, making sure wrist only touched wrist, both hands shriveling into soft fists into the small of his back, the piercing blue of his eyes still lost to the boots.  
  
The shiny leather slowly left his field of vision.

“Shall I teach you, Leonis, so you understand whom you serve now?“ A light touch of his hands. Silken thread wrapped around his wrists, binding them together, more a gesture than real bonds.  
  
Cor focused his breathing, mute and still, a sudden thrill at what would befall him by his silence. As Noctis remained behind him he waited for the sound of boots to reappear, to overtake, and deepen the loud beating of the heart in his chest. He felt that he waited a long time, long enough for him to imagine the silk he could feel but not see, loose and so delicate, yet, it kept his whole body under its rule.

A single thread was wrapped around his neck, not even tight, and connected to those around his wrists. It needed effort not to break it. “Does my Marshal wish to keep his position?“

It was not clear which of the current ones he meant.

There was a pleasant burn in his thighs as Cor tried not to move his legs further apart, his knees weary from the weight that pressed them against the hard marble floor, his posture straight as he slightly bent his head back to accommodate the fixtures to his body.

He felt the silk caress his throat as he opened his mouth to speak, his voice quiet. "Yes. Yes, my.."  
  
“And you know what it means to serve the royal family. You served old Mors, you served my father, and yet, you will not serve me.“ Tiny sparks dancing down on the edges of Cor's vision. Noct had reached into his armiger, but instead of punishment, it was smooth leather that caressed the marshal's cheek.

“You still miss old Mors, don't you? Not for who he was, but for what he did to you. Testing your limits.“ A short, hard pain as the riding crop bit into the skin of his cheek. “Testing your _obedience_. Nothing sweet Regis was willing to do.“  
  
Water behind his eyelids gently clung to his lashes after the sting of leather. His eyes kept closed to focus on the pain that seared on the side of his face. Cor didn't flinch or move, the fists behind his back tightly clenched as he used more strength to stay still, to keep the silk intact. The boots that he had listened for beckoned his lips now, as the king stood in front of him, slowly filling his mind with old and new anticipation.  
  
“You did your very best to stifle your needs for him. Everything for your beloved. Yet it didn't keep you from getting your little hole filled with a stranger's cock whenever it was possible.“ The leather of the crop's tip slowly danced over Cor's lips. “My marshal, panting and begging in a dark corner, begging for more, begging to be fucked even deeper til the pain banished the dark thoughts from his mind. _Leave no marks_ you whimpered while rough hands pushed your head against a brick wall. Ah, my little mashal. My little slut.“  
  
A very slight _nod_ , barely discernible as he still kept his body stiff to conceal, conceal the tiny quick licks of his tongue that slowly wetted the leather, to keep Noct from seeing how eager he was to taste more. The leather wandered, from his lips down to his chin. A little push, unspoken command to raise his head, to _stand_.

“You always wondered if he really didn't know, or if he just didn't care. Maybe _tolerated_ you filling your needs. Or if he sometimes _watched_ through one of the peepholes in the palace's secret passages when Titus had his way with you, lubing you up with spit and disgust, making you his little whore. That thought got you hard like nothing else, didn't it? Him watching in secret...“  
  
Cor licked his lips, hoping he still was concealing his needy tongue, the sweat drops under his collar, his controlled breathing.

He raised his knee, and another, a motion done so many times before in captive, in master bedrooms and in fleeting dreams, his cock straining against his thigh and constrictive fabric, hardening against the friction. As slow as his long limbs and silk allowed him, he stood taller, above Noctis, fighting the need within that made his knees tremble, that wanted to buckle and be effaced by his shadow again. The empty throne caught his eye, dreadful, yet awe-inspiring as always when he considered the men that had reigned from its seat, and the many men that had knelt in its presence.  
  
“Very good.“ Noctis stood at arm's length, head slightly cocked, and tapped the tip of the crop against his own lips, clearly appreciating what he saw. “Look at you, my little slut. Hard for me already.“ A not too gentle, somehow reprehensive stroke against the swollen middle.

Cor’s expression was blank, obstinate, lips slightly parted as he stood at attention, piercing blue eyes looking straight ahead over the grinning king.

He didn't buck his hips forwards or away, doing his best to ignore the touch that tore at his self-possession, that had given him away, sparks of fire in his loins weakening his resolve to remain unswerving.

"A little more self-loathing already, my Marshal?" The young king stepped forward and breathed a kiss onto the tense jaw. "Shame about a body that already knows whom it belongs to now? Oh, please _don't_. Don't fight your fate. It's what you always wanted. To _serve_ in any way needed." A single finger ran down Cor's sternum, his hard abdomen, and stopped at the waistband

As he listened to the king speak he felt the words as if they were whispered to the nerves of his skin, invisible hairs rising across his body. Cor considered his upright position again, the purple silk across the throbbing veins of his throat and wrists, the familiar mercilessness of the throne room that all came together to compose his response to the man that was, and yet wasn't, _his_ king.

"Strong, silent, stoic, as you've always been. I won't force you to spell out your desires. That would be cruel." Noctis opened the buttons that kept him covered, let the black fabric of Cor's trousers pool around his ankles, around his black boots. "You may step out of them, but keep the boots."

Cold air stung him sharply, as if all of the surfaces of the throne room pressed against him, all jagged unforgiving edges, harsh surfaces that he longed to be bruised and fucked against. With more difficulty than poise he managed to free his pale legs, slightly trembling before muscles tensed as he stood still, intact for the king again, for his own persistence that heightened his senses and lead his cock.

"On your knees, little slut. Open your mouth."

Headstrong and competent as he was, at the right hand Cor was willing to surrender, _desperate_ to prove the extend and ability of his service, to give himself over to be held and crushed completely. He fell to his knees, feeling the scratch of floor, the leather and heels of his boots digging into the flesh of his buttocks as he sank further and further down, his gaze on Noct's boots slowly moving up the length of his legs, to linger steadily on his groin before he finally tilted his head upwards, to present his hungry mouth.

It was the king's thumb that ran over the thin lips, started to explore the insides of the hungry mouth, and it was the crop that hit Cor's thigh when he started _sucking_ out of habit. "Keep it open until I order otherwise. Do you understand?" Where Noct's voice was gentle, the leather had not been, and the marshal felt the heat of his own blood run down his skin.

He had been careless, carried away by memories of frenzy, and knew he had made a mistake. _I'm sorry._ He opened his mouth, kept it open with conviction in his eyes, thumb and air and drool felt teeth and tongue again as he was still as a good recruit, steady breathing, ready to prove his worth and earn his place at the young king's feet.

Noctis bowed down, enough to kiss his marshal's brow, his beautiful eyes, to gently run his tongue along the long lashes. One sinewy hand closed around Cor's throat, taking his breath away. “Would you die for me, my Marshal, if I wished it?“

Cor's voice croaked little sounds of agreement, a diminutive _yes, yes_ that he wasn't certain had escaped him by tongue, made to diminish by silk and hand, but with his whole body. Cor wanted assent in the moment, in rapture, softness in his eyes and a slowly widening smile telling Noctis his life's worth.

His king watched him, delighted by this eagerness. "What a pretty thing you are." For a few labored breaths longer the hand remained where it was, pushing down harder, then releasing, letting oxygen hit his servant like a wave, making him twitch. New strands of silk were wrapped around his neck, a delicate leash for a _good dog_.

Gasping, the rise and fall of his chest made Cor feel able to withstand _more_ as he kept his head up and neck sturdy, proud and determined to see the king's orders through.

A moment of tightness, of silk cutting into his skin, as Noct ripped away those threads that bound his hands. "On all fours, my little slut. Head on the ground. Present yourself."

Cor's hands remained behind his back as he bent forward in a straight line, the top of his head meeting the floor harshly. Deliberately slow he moved his arms to lay besides his head, resting on his elbows, vision full of black marble, again, listening ardently.

Slow steps on the marble, the young king circling him like a carnivore its prey. They came to a halt behind him, the leather of the crop gently touching the pale thighs, dragging up across the little pouch that hung there and further up, caressing the tense ring of muscle. A slap onto the tender skin, then the steps continued. A tug at his leash. Master wanted to take a walk.

His head followed the leash, the silk under his chin lifting it upwards, a sharp caress, and on hands and knees he crawled after the boots that made his cock twitch.

From down here the throne room seemed even bigger, even more improbably high.

"You know, my Marshal..." Noctis' voice was so very calm as he guided him, leather touching naked skin now and then to correct his direction or his posture, "I may very well train you not only to be my guard, but also my lap dog. Feed you by hand, keep you at my side at all times. Maybe I'll allow _esteemed guests_ to _pet_ you while I watch. To _fuck_ you like the little bitch you are while we discuss politics, bent over the table, blindfolded and yet always alert. Oh, you'd hate that, wouldn't you? And yet, you'd do it for your king, and you'd come from it if I ordered you to."

The smooth floor was like ice under Cor's knees.

Each word the marshal heard made it harder to crawl. Drops of sweat and pre-cum trickled down his thighs, his closed mouth did nothing to prevent drool from filling in the corners, constantly licking away and swallowing, but he followed like a puppet on a string.

At the bottom of the stairs Cor craned his neck to look up. Millions and millions of steps he imagined to be in front of him, and he would climb and limp across each one to be the disgraced plaything that so easily could be tossed from the top of the throne, only to ascend all the steps again, bleeding, leaking, licking up his own trails of blood and cum, just to see the smile on his king's face when he made it there.

Noctis sat down on the stairs, crop pointing down to the shiny leather of his boots. “Your head here. Your ass in the air. We'll take a little break before we make our way up there.“

Cor crawled a few paces to align himself in front of the sitting king, feeling the wear and tear of his knees, wrists and palms as he kneeled once more. Placing a hand with the palms up on either side of his own boots he slowly, benignly lowered down and laid his head softly on the leather, almost hovering, careful not to push or move the legs of his master as he strived to keep balance.

His cheekbones almost perfectly lined up against the curve of the boots. He inhaled their smell, and pursed his lips to kiss them, kissing only the air, delight in his heart still.

Finally he fulfilled the task, his jacket sliding down his back as he raised his naked rear up as high as he could, a strain in his arms lying flat against the floor, a pose he was keen to uphold.

The young man watched him closely. "You may kiss them, if that is what you crave." The leather tip ran along Cor's hard length. Still no touch of skin on skin, no warmth except for the tone of Noct's voice.

The tip of Cor's tongue peeked out before the curved front of the boots, disappearing as he pursed his lips to place light kisses. The taste of leather so deeply coveted tangled low moans with deep breaths, he struggled to keep his hands where they were, knuckles to floor, lips still brushing against the leather wanting to drink more and more. At the edge of his self-restraint Cor spoke, desperate.

"May I... lick, my majesty?"

His king chuckled, feeling generous enough to allow him, while the caress of the crop remained under his body.

"My naughty boy. Look at how terribly _excited_ you are. Shall we get you a proper leash? One with a wide leather collar you have to wear at all times, just to remind you that you're nothing but the King's hound?"

The brush of the crop delivered the king's graces to him, Cor closed his eyes as he once more pressed his lips to the shiny leather. His kisses turned into slow, lavish licks as he drank more and more, frying his brain with pleasure, shivers from the tip of his ears shooting throughout his body all the way down to his toes curling inside his boots.

One lick at the time Cor let his tongue return inside his mouth to savor the taste and sensation, to offer the boots the adoration they commended, the dignified restraint that the king wearing the boots deserved. He opened his eyes and looked up at Noctis, anxious to meet his gaze as he lovingly continued to lick the front of the boots. He moved his arm, opening his hand from a clenched fist to wrap around the ankle of the king's boot, to hold and caress and _worship_ , but stopping just out of reach, returning to its previous position in lovely patience.

His king bowed down, just enough to grab the short hair, and dragged his head up. Forced him to _look_ , to look into eyes dark and blue like the sky when the sun just hid behind the horizon. The smooth hand on his cheek again, the fingers on thin lips, and Cor remembered feverishly hot that he had dared to _close his mouth_ without an order. Opened it again. His king gave a tiny nod. _Good pet_. Then he spit into the hollow. Gingerly closed it. Smiled.

“Come, my Marshal. I'll show you your place.“

A short tug on the leash, and slow steps on the long climb up the stairs, slow enough for Cor to follow.

With effort and pride in each step Cor placed his palms and fingers firmly on the cold surface, avoided scraping his knees against it, deliberate and graceful in motion to not rush or tremble or inconvenience the king and keep the leash slack, floating with elegance from the King's hand that made Cor the disgraced underling that he was. He wanted to crawl forever, crawl until he was truly deserving of what awaited at the end.

His _master_ did not allow him that pleasure, and with every step the crop rained down on his naked flesh, leaving angry welts on pale skin. “A muzzle and a blindfold...“ Noct's voice sounded lost in thoughts, “your eyes only for me to see, to see them when they flicker and roll back in your head when I allow you to come for me. Leather, my pet, or lace, or tight rubber? What shall your new skin be?“

 _Rubber, please, Majesty, please_ . There were no words among the whimpers that escaped Cor despite his febrile attempts to remain composed. The burning sensation across his skin allowed thoughts of prolonging and succumbing to the aching of his joints and cock to fester, to _beg_ for more strikes of the crop, faster and harder, his mouth longing for something shut him up, to make him focus only on accompanying his master to the throne.

In the end, Noctis sat down slowly. Patted his knee. "Your head, pet. Rest it here. You have done well."

 _I have done well_. Cor smiled. A wave of relief washed through him as he allowed himself to relax at his king’s feet. Nothing that could happen now would matter anymore, and as Noct’s hand caressed his temple, the curve of his ear, he dared to close his eyes. To take a deep breath.

_I have done well. He finally understands._

 

 


	3. A Morning After

Cor woke slowly and with an horrible taste on his tongue he knew all too well. The warm body he was resting against, snuggled up close under a blanket to keep the cold away, was one he very much did _not_ know. Not that close and personal, anyway. They were fully dressed, much to his relief, and his arm around the young king was there just to keep him safe and warm, nothing more. He wasn't even hard. _Just a dream._ It took a moment or two to notice the slickness around his cock. Dreams rarely happened to him, and when they did, they were neither _that_ vivid nor pleasant. _No no no. That was not a pleasant dream_ . What had prompted him to even have a _dream_ like that? Cor stared blankly into the sunrise. _No. Forget the dream. It happens, even to old fucks like you._

The rays of the morning sun kindly displayed the mess they left. Fishing and more drinking. _Had they even caught anything?_ He craned his neck side to side to check their surroundings. No one else on the beach still. Good. He rubbed his face with his free hand, and looked at Noctis, relieved to find that he was still asleep, looking as much as the weary young man he always did. A mean hangover was in store for him, that was for sure. _Was that all you could do for him? Fucking hell_.

Somehow the previous night was hard to put into order. Besides Noctis' _confession_ that was. _His wish._ Besides the dream…

Uneasy feelings rose as memories and words mingled in his head, Cor desperately trying to separate what Noctis' had actually said from what he remembered from the dream, what had made wetness stick to his thighs uncomfortably. _What the fuck is wrong with you._ The dream would not leave him alone as he considered his options from here. _No. Don't linger on it. Focus._ Can't casually walk the prince back in sticky briefs. Can't pretend none of it happened even at the off-chance Noctis doesn't remember or mention anything. _Fuck. Have to go. Now._  
  
Cor tried to move his arm awkwardly. The young king did not move. If it wasn't for the flat, regular breaths, he might have been a dead man. He had been in worse situations with young men, his arm caught _under_ them instead of atop, but somehow this was worse.  
  
The morning was beautiful, crisp and clear and with a harsh wind from the sea, and upon closer inspection, they had indeed caught something, still alive and swimming in a bucket full of saltwater. The fish managed to look as bad-mooded as he felt. The more Cor looked at the fish, trapped for reasons it didn't know, the more he knew he couldn't just go. It would be irresponsible to leave the prince while he was defenseless in drunken sleep, and leaving like this would make it quite obvious that the night bothered him more than he had let on. He inhaled sharply and let his arm remain around Noctis. Very slightly he rubbed his thumb along the young man’s shoulder.

The sharp _click_ of a camera ruined what little mood there was. _How long had the boy been there, witnessing silently?_

Cor closed his eyes for a second, knowing it would likely upset the cheerful blonde if he kept them closed for longer. The headache he had hoped would fade away suddenly throbbed violently, and he wondered how to ask for the bloody photograph he surely was subject of to be erased.

"Prompto.." He tried his hardest to hide the discomfort in his voice.

The blond squatted down beside him. Put a finger to his lips and shook his head. “It's okay,“ he whispered, “I know this is what he wanted all along. It's just...“ He sniffed, wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Want some coffee or something?“

 _What he had wanted? Why did Prompto know? Had they set him up?_ Even if he hadn't turned to acknowledge him, Cor knew that something had upset him. He really should have known. No matter his intentions, it had been a bad idea to keep the prince company. Nothing was ever not complicated. He moved his arm off Noctis and crossed his legs. Bit his lip as he felt the extent of stickiness in his boxers. Without really knowing what to do he let a shameful hand remain in his lap and put the other on Prompto's shoulder, comforting him as much as he could muster in his current state.

"You alright there, Prompto?"

“Let's walk a few steps, 'kay? Just let him sleep.“ The boy's eyes were cloudy with tears, and he dragged the marshal up without much ado. His wiry strength was surprising.

 _Awful_ didn't even begin to describe how Cor felt as he pulled Prompto in for a hug.

"Alright."

The boy stiffened in his arms. “Don't. Not now.“

They walked in silence for a little while, the blond trying to calm his breathing. _No, he would not cry._ “Brought a thermos, you know? Thought would be nice to take a few pics down here at dawn. Have some coffee. Some alone time. I mean, I... sometimes I need that, you know? Alone time.“ The short flash of his usual grin, fading fast.

Cor took a deep breath, inhaling wind and ocean and the still lingering scent of whiskey. It did not manage to make him feel refreshed or give him a brilliant plan to fix the mess, and the wish that he had taken a moment to scour through the beer cans to see if there had been an unopened one gnawed on him. With hands in his pockets he followed Prompto's lead, slow and easy. It was the least he could do for the tearful man walking beside him.

"Nothing wrong with alone time, but there is clearly something bothering you. Spit it out." Short and sternly said, his voice and throat so dry. Being all business, being all _Marshal_ was not what he felt like being, but it seemed the only escape route. He had never minded being there for the boys as a _friend_ , as much as the difference in age and experience allowed, but this was far out of his comfort zone.

"You... and him... did you... did you sleep with him?" Not _did you fuck him_ , and judging by the boy's face, that wasn't what he meant either. "I know how he looks at you, even if you don't, because you're pretty good at not noticing things when you don't want to, but..." He looked down at the freckled hands that were clenched around the black plastic of the camera. Tried to relax them, knuckles white under the skin. "I don't blame you or anything. Really. I don't."

"I did not sleep with him, Prompto." It came out harsher than Cor intended, and it was the only thing he said despite the weird _need_ to defend himself from Prom’s question. It didn't sound like the truth to his own ears, even if he was certain that it was. _No, no, no. It's just guilt from the dream, and from knowing now that the boys think about me in that manner._

"I drank with him through the night, we talked and fished. He is the prince, _king_ , the son of my.. Why on Eos would I..."

Cor crossed his arms, a bad habit he knew wouldn't make Prompto feel any less told off, but right now he didn't know what to do with his overflowing annoyance at himself and the world at large.

The boy's cheeks were burning. "'Cause he is the _King_ and if he looked at me like he looks at you just _once_ , I...." A heavy sob came up from somewhere between stomach and heart, and he tried to be brave and swallow it down, so all that came out was a pitiable hiccup and hot little tears, and Prom wiped them away with the ball of his hand like a kid would, terribly embarrassed and angry with himself, written clear enough on every inch of him that even Leonis could read it.

Cor's arms fell to his side, his hands soft fists, before he lifted them and placed a hand carefully behind Prompto's head, pulling him close. He wrapped his other arm around the boy that was falling apart, keeping him upright and from escaping the hug. Cor rested his chin on top of his head and gently ruffled the blonde hair, all the while looking off into the ocean.

"Hey now, Prom.. Prom." He knew how he felt, desperate longing and insufferable heartbreak, but Astrals be _damned_ he had no answer how to remedy it, besides drinking and suffering more, still none the wiser in comforting others with his own experiences.

"Listen, Prompto. You're friends, _best_ friends and he cares so much about you, more than he dares to say, that much even I know."

“ _I love him._ “ That sounded quite muffled through the fabric of Cor's jacket. “And I can't tell him. Not that way. And if the dude isn't into twinks, I mean...“ He started to relax into Cor's arms, slowly hugging back.

Prompto could feel a guilty chuckle move through Cor's chest, heard it escape the thin lips involuntarily. A smile full of regret.

"Prompto. Sometimes you don't get what you want, no matter how much you want it, and.." There was more he felt he should say, but he saw that what had already been said offered no comfort at all, and it stumped him.

Leonis still held the boy close, tight, and noticed how oddly _nice_ it was to feel him be safe in his arms, but guilt still told him to get away before he did more damage. Following any mad hungover instincts this morning brought would only add to the mistakes that already had been made.

"Let's head back and see if there isn't any beer left. Noctis surely will be needing one and he will be happy to see you there. Alright?" Cor looked down on the teary face as he tried to fix Prompto's hair.

The boy looked up to him, his gaze searching the marshal's face for _something_. Maybe to understand what his beloved saw in him, and after a moment, he smiled. “Thanks, dude. And thanks for the hug. Won't tell anyone you did that, promised.“

"Hm, maybe not the worst thing one can hide about me, now is it?"

Cor returned a weary smile, unsure of why his pace slowed down towards the direction back. Surely Noctis was among the living by now, and he could just stay for a little while and see how the guy was doing and then leave the boys be. Then a horrible thought occurred to him. Maybe both of them weren't like _him_ , but open to actually _talking_ about whatever was at heart. _Fuck_.

"Stay just like this!" Prom sounded excited all of a sudden, had the camera up before the rare smile had vanished. "Can you do that again?"

Cor stopped in his tracks, kicking away a stone in the sand before he looked away from his boots to look at Prompto. "Like this?" He relaxed his shoulders, unclenched his hands in his pockets, and made the light smile emerge as he focused on the lens. At least he could give him that.

"Nice!" He was down on his knees in an instant to get a better shot, to make the marshal larger than life. "Hand over your eyes, like you're shielding them from the sun!"

He played along, watching the seagulls fly over the ocean. Suddenly he was really hoping there weren't stains of any kind visible on him through the lens, or any other real dishevelment. "All done, Prompto?" A bigger smile, just to get it over with without upsetting the blond. The camera clicked, and he saw the boy smiling as it did, and saw the brightness in his face didn't reach the eyes. "Never, dude, but maybe for now. I'll just go over there and leave you the fun of getting Noct onto his feet again, 'kay?" He pointed _somewhere_ down the rocky coastline.

"Prompto. Take care.. for me, will you?" Cor laid his hands on Prompto's shoulders, softly squeezing those way too tense muscles.

"Hells no. Ask Iggy if you want that done." A little mischievous spark in his eye he didn't know the boy had in him. "If you can drink with him, you can bear the consequences."

 _No, I meant.._ Cor ran a hand over his short hair, feeling tiny grains of sand he hadn't noticed there. "I suppose that's only appropriate. Will you be okay?" He eyed him one more time, all regret and seriousness.

Prompto shrugged. “Guess so. Will you?“ For a few seconds, his face was austere, like he knew more than he let on, Cor being a partner in crime instead of a distant authority.

"I'm not exactly the one with a bad morning here. Just.. sorry there's not much more I can do. Be well Prompto." Cor turned his back, no parting smile but a quick wave over his head as he walked away.  


The boy stood there for a while, shoulders slumped. “It's always about you in the end, dude. Your own friggin drama. All the sadness you can manage, by all means necessary.“ He whispered it to the wind. Nobody else would listen anyway. The hot little sting of envy in his heart, and he forced himself to grin. They wouldn't have _him_ any other way.

  
Noct was still deep in the realm of sleep when Cor returned, bordering to the kingdom of unconsciousness. His slumber was uneasy, and he was curled up like a kitten in cold weather. Cor stood there just watching him, thinking about the smile that would appear on Regis' face if he was here to see him sleeping like this. Suddenly he was a whirlwind of buried emotions twisting his stomach. Dread. Nostalgia. Regret. Missing simpler times, wishing there had been another way. He sat down next to Noctis again and buried his head in his hands, the sun's warm glow no comfort.

“Marshal?“ That came after a groan and quite a while. A lazy hand felt around for him, holding unto his jacket for some anchor to reality. “I'm not so good..“

"Yeah, figures. Are you gonna be sick?" He didn't turn to look at him, still needing some time to return from inner vexation.

The young king managed a few yards on all fours before he brought his sacrifice into Leviathan's altar. Dropped where he had crawled, breathing heavily. He had taken the question as a suggestion. Cor got up, walked towards the fallen king and sat down in the sand, sparing Noctis the _look_ he had been told always made people feel worse, scolded without words. "How bad is it?"

“Been worse.“ He rolled over, arms and legs spread like a starfish. “Sorry if I've been horrible or anything. And thanks for making sure I didn't drown myself by accident.“

Cor grabbed Noct's boot and gently shook his leg. "Come here. Sit up."

The young man tried half-heartedly for a moment, lacking all the grace and elegance Cor remembered so vividly from his dream, but at last he managed to _sit_. Felt for his face. “You didn't draw on me while I was out, did you?“

"Hm. Maybe I did." Cor smiled as he entertained the thought. Pranks were something he had never participated in. His hand came to a rest on Noctis' back. He studied the boy closely, leaning forward to do so. _Was he looking for..?_ No. He was not comparing him to Regis, how Regis always managed to look _more_ well-rested after a hard night’s drinking than usual, how Cor loved that look on him. Noctis certainly did not look _well-rested_. That was why he was looking, to check on the boy. "Where to shall we recover, here in the sand or in the chairs, your majesty?"

“I like sand,“ the boy mumbled, rolled down on his back again. “And I think I need a drink. I mean water. Or coffee. Not a drink-drink. I think.“ A little, sad giggle. “That rhymed. And I'm sorry. Just some water and a tiny bit more sleep?“

"No need to apologize, Noct. I didn't see any water in the bag. Did you bring some?" Cor knew the answer already. "Nevermind, I'll go take a look. Just don't get worse while I'm away, okay?"

He managed a smile as he got up and brushed sand off his pants. The cool morning breeze sneaked under his shirt as he stretched, and he suddenly felt conscious that his body was being looked at closely, even though he could see Noct had his arm over his eyes.

_Let it go, Cor._


End file.
